Read Online Notes From a Liar and Her Dog by Gennifer Choldenko - Free Book Online
Authors: Gennifer Choldenko
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here. And besides, I’m afraid of her,” I call down to Just Carol as I edge my way onto the platform with Harrison. It’s squishy with both of us up here.
Harrison smiles at me. Just Carol snorts. All three of us know this isn’t true.
I let Harrison hold the bucket and Kigali approaches again. Kigali gives me a once-over with her good eye, then ducks her head back in the bucket.
“Ant, think my dad will let me have a giraffe?” Harrison asks.
“If anyone would, it would be your dad,” I say. I take his free hand. I can feel the callus on the side of his middle finger where he holds his pencil tight. I squeeze his hand, then I let go. My face feels hot, and I hope Just Carol didn’t see. Harrison will understand I didn’t mean anything by this, but no one else will.
8
T HE L IONS
H arrison is still at the giraffe exhibit. Mary-Judy said we had to split in teams. We tried to get her to let us be a team together, but she said no way. She did say we could choose who would go where, though. Of course, I let Harrison stay with the giraffes and Just Carol and me head back to the lions’ night house.
I stick my hand in my pocket. Tashi is quiet. He’s probably on overload from all the smells. I pet his fur with my finger and feel his hot breath on my hand. He is going to need to pee pretty soon, so I’m going to have to come up with a reason to sneak off by myself. I guess I’ll say I have to go to the bathroom. They won’t follow me in there, that’s for sure. He seems peaceful right now, though, so I’ll wait until he gets antsy again.
Just Carol has a dustpan in her hand. She hands it to me and pulls another one off a nail on the wall. “Scoop up the poop and the old meat, then put it in your bucket,” she explains. “I’ll take the front. You take the back. We’ll meet in the middle.” I nod and walk back to lions’ cage number 5, trying to pretend Ido this all the time. I look at the pulley that operates the metal door leading to the exhibit area. I know I’m safe so long as I don’t pull it. Still, it feels spooky being caged in a cell that only a little while ago held a lion. I look at the metal door. There is a gap between the door and the floor. I see four lion legs walk by, close enough for me to touch. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up like little antennae.
From the inside, the cage looks like a cartoon prison cell. There is one long wooden bench, and that’s it. The cage is just wide enough for a twin bed. I imagine the place all decorated with furniture and pictures. I wish I could fix it up, because it feels cold and empty the way it is. It makes me sorry for the lion who has to spend her night here.
In the corner there is a pile of poop, which looks like extra large dog poop, and at the other end, a scattering of old meat that smells like raw turned food. A bone the shape of a heart sits on the bench. I wonder what animal it has come from. The bone feels heavy in my dustpan the way a big rock would. I dump it in the bucket. The bucket smells so bad I have to hold my breath when I’m near it. After Just Carol and I get all the big pieces up, we turn on a black hose and spray the rest down a drain in the low center of the cement floor. The water sprays hard, like a fireman’s hose. I like this part a lot.
I like working with Just Carol, too. She shows me what to do, but she isn’t all teachery about it. She acts as if we are even-Steven here—like I am really a person, not just a kid. My mom is never like this. She isalways the boss. Her job is to point out my mistakes, and as far as she is concerned, there are a million of them. I am wrong, even before I do anything. For one thing, I don’t look right. She thinks I look like my aunt. And the way she feels about my aunt, this is like saying I look like a big blackhead. But she is wrong. I’m not ugly, I just don’t fit in the same neat little box she and Your Highness and Kate do. I’m tall and dark. I have brown
Harrison smiles at me. Just Carol snorts. All three of us know this isn’t true.
I let Harrison hold the bucket and Kigali approaches again. Kigali gives me a once-over with her good eye, then ducks her head back in the bucket.
“Ant, think my dad will let me have a giraffe?” Harrison asks.
“If anyone would, it would be your dad,” I say. I take his free hand. I can feel the callus on the side of his middle finger where he holds his pencil tight. I squeeze his hand, then I let go. My face feels hot, and I hope Just Carol didn’t see. Harrison will understand I didn’t mean anything by this, but no one else will.
8
T HE L IONS
H arrison is still at the giraffe exhibit. Mary-Judy said we had to split in teams. We tried to get her to let us be a team together, but she said no way. She did say we could choose who would go where, though. Of course, I let Harrison stay with the giraffes and Just Carol and me head back to the lions’ night house.
I stick my hand in my pocket. Tashi is quiet. He’s probably on overload from all the smells. I pet his fur with my finger and feel his hot breath on my hand. He is going to need to pee pretty soon, so I’m going to have to come up with a reason to sneak off by myself. I guess I’ll say I have to go to the bathroom. They won’t follow me in there, that’s for sure. He seems peaceful right now, though, so I’ll wait until he gets antsy again.
Just Carol has a dustpan in her hand. She hands it to me and pulls another one off a nail on the wall. “Scoop up the poop and the old meat, then put it in your bucket,” she explains. “I’ll take the front. You take the back. We’ll meet in the middle.” I nod and walk back to lions’ cage number 5, trying to pretend Ido this all the time. I look at the pulley that operates the metal door leading to the exhibit area. I know I’m safe so long as I don’t pull it. Still, it feels spooky being caged in a cell that only a little while ago held a lion. I look at the metal door. There is a gap between the door and the floor. I see four lion legs walk by, close enough for me to touch. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up like little antennae.
From the inside, the cage looks like a cartoon prison cell. There is one long wooden bench, and that’s it. The cage is just wide enough for a twin bed. I imagine the place all decorated with furniture and pictures. I wish I could fix it up, because it feels cold and empty the way it is. It makes me sorry for the lion who has to spend her night here.
In the corner there is a pile of poop, which looks like extra large dog poop, and at the other end, a scattering of old meat that smells like raw turned food. A bone the shape of a heart sits on the bench. I wonder what animal it has come from. The bone feels heavy in my dustpan the way a big rock would. I dump it in the bucket. The bucket smells so bad I have to hold my breath when I’m near it. After Just Carol and I get all the big pieces up, we turn on a black hose and spray the rest down a drain in the low center of the cement floor. The water sprays hard, like a fireman’s hose. I like this part a lot.
I like working with Just Carol, too. She shows me what to do, but she isn’t all teachery about it. She acts as if we are even-Steven here—like I am really a person, not just a kid. My mom is never like this. She isalways the boss. Her job is to point out my mistakes, and as far as she is concerned, there are a million of them. I am wrong, even before I do anything. For one thing, I don’t look right. She thinks I look like my aunt. And the way she feels about my aunt, this is like saying I look like a big blackhead. But she is wrong. I’m not ugly, I just don’t fit in the same neat little box she and Your Highness and Kate do. I’m tall and dark. I have brown
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